


More Than You Could Ever Know

by erinn_bedford



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Christmas fic, F/M, Fluff, Tumblr Prompts, detective au if you squint, drinking of rum and confessions of love and destruction of cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinn_bedford/pseuds/erinn_bedford
Summary: Benvolio spins back to her, and smiles, bright and happy. “I don’t know how you can be so completely and utterly infuriating, but still manage to make me fall in love with you.”Or, Benvolio might tell her he loves her the Verona PD holiday party, and Rosaline is still trying to figure out how to react to that.
Relationships: Rosaline Capulet/Benvolio Montague
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81





	More Than You Could Ever Know

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: we’re co workers who hate each other but you had too much to drink at the staff christmas party and admitted your love for me i don’t know how to act around you now. Thanks tumblr anon <3

The napkin hits her smack in the face. She can’t see her assailant, but she has a pretty good guess. 

“What the fuck, Montague!” She rips the napkin off her face, ready to tear him to shreds, but he’s not glaring at her. Or smirking. Or doing anything remotely infuriating. 

Instead, he’s holding out the bottle of rum, his other hand up in surrender. 

“It was the closest thing I could find to a white flag on short notice.” 

Rosaline glances between the bottle of rum and the very clearly cream napkin. Then she rolls her eyes. Which is about as close to an okay he knows he’ll get so he nods, and passes her the bottle to her before situating himself next to her.

“How did you find my hiding spot?” She asks, taking sip of the rum as Benvolio attempts to fold his legs in some sort of fashion that he’s not touching her or sticking out in a way that someone else will find them.

“I was your partner for like two months. You are a bit predictable.” 

Rosaline scoffs. “I will kick you out of my hiding spot and keep your rum, do not test me Montague. The fact that I am even speaking to you is already pushing it.”

He nods seriously and reaches for the rum. “I also find criminals for a living.”

Rosaline sticks her arm out taking the bottle out of his reach, raising a single eyebrow.

His lip quirks up into his stupid smirk, and he places his hand on his knee, reaching across her for the rum.

“I might have watched you escape as our beloved commissioner made his way into the room,” he says, pausing less than an inch away from her face. “You’re not as invisible as you think, Capulet.”

She narrows her eyes at him and slowly brings the alcohol back down so he can grab it. He plants a kiss on her cheeks and then is instantly back to his spot, her knee still warm from where his hand was. 

“So, you followed me?”

Benvolio shrugs, and pulls another napkin out of his pocket, this time revealing a handful of the fancy appetizers that were lined up elegantly on the other side of the ballroom. “You might be the only person who I will be able to handle tonight, if I’m being honest.”

“Must be bad since we hate each other.” She says, taking one of the snacks from him.

“I don’t hate you, Capulet.”

It takes her by surprise, if she’s being honest.

The Montague/Capulet rivalry had been so deeply entrenched in the Verona police department, that at this point, the fact that Rosaline and Benvolio were in the same precinct was enough to send both their uncles into a frenzy. 

It was Escalus’s way of trying to create a truce between the two families, stopping the fighting that had been going on since both their grandfathers had been chiefs of rival precincts. An argument over who had actually caught the Verona Slasher was still disputed in some circles, and Livia had even sent Rosaline a link to podcast about it.

The fact that Rosaline and Benvolio had been partnered was still hotly debated as one of Escalus’s biggest mistakes as a rookie commissioner. The fact that he kept them in the same precinct after they were given new partners was still being questioned.

She doesn’t hate him, not really, but he says it so quickly that she’s not entirely sure how to handle the fact that he doesn’t hate her either.

“We were partners for two months, and I’m pretty sure there was at least three times we tried to arrest each other. And the second the new crop of kids came in, they separated us in fear that one of us would actually shoot each other.” She realizes she sounds little defensive, but she’s also has 2 glasses of champagne and she’s good at being defensive. Especially around him

Benvolio shrugs and passes the rum back to her. “This a truce. We are supposed to be nice each other.”

“I’m always nice.”

He grins at that, and for some reason, it’s a little infectious. Rosaline takes a sip of the alcohol, and slumps back against the wall.

“We couldn’t have been all that bad together. We are winning an award for the sheer amount of cases solved in that two month span.” Benvolio says, and Rosaline groans.

“I had just managed to forget about that, thanks for bringing it up.”

“Ahh,” Benvolio pokes her shoulder. “Is that why you are hiding?”

“I’m not hiding.”

“You literally called it a hiding spot.”

Rosaline stuffs another appetizer in her mouth so she doesn’t have to answer him right away. She’s not hiding. Not really. Just taking extra precautions.

“I’m being careful.”

Benvolio’s eyebrows twist into a question, and she chews on her food, trying to come up with something to say that won’t make her sound like a crazy person. 

“My ex-boyfriend/boss is going to give us an award for being good at our jobs, in front of all of our very drunk coworkers, and literally, the last thing I want is for Escalus to look at me in any way at all, especially in front of anyone, so I’m trying to avoid that for as long as I can.”

Benvolio nods and opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. 

“Plus, I was going to have to deal with you, But since you’ve decided to take care of that…” she trails off and he rolls his eyes at her, but it’s more teasing than annoyed.

“I brought you rum. And a truce.”

“You did.”

Rosaline sighs and pulls her knees up to her chest. They can see the entire ballroom from their hiding spot, and she’s pretty sure she can already pinpoint where at least 3 arguments are going to break out. The Verona Police Holiday Party has been a disaster literally every year since she was a rookie beat cop, but no matter what goes down, it happens every year.

All the Christmas Hallmark movies she had been binge watching thee past few weeks had lied. There was nothing magical about holiday parties.No prince charmings or handsome love interests in sight. Just drunk coworkers, and ex boyfriends, and at least one person getting slapped in the face.

And usually, she could get through it. Because she would have Escalus. And they would bet on who would start the fights and what detective was going to make a fool of themselves in their speech, and he would kiss her under the mistletoe and then, at the end of the night, they would go home together, and kiss in her hallway, and she could wake up with a raging hang over, buthis arm around her waist, and it would be something sort of magical.

But that was before he broke up with her 3 weeks before Christmas.

“Think it will be Diaz and White or Medici and Romano?” Benvolio asks, after several minutes of silence and passing the rum back and forth.

“Hmm?” Rosaline says, shaking herself out of her head and back into the reality of the moment. She’s sitting next to her ex partner and they are not fighting, and it might just be its own sort of Christmas miracle. 

“Who do you think is going to start fighting first?”

Rosaline scans the crowd, surprised that Benvolio’s guesses matched with hers.

“Both are options, but I think Mantua and Silver are looking a little more heated than the other two.”

“Ohh. I didn’t even see them, good eye, Capulet.” Benvolio’s shoulder bumps against hers, and it might be the rum, but she doesn’t push him away. 

She feels warm and a little drunk, and Benvolio’s leg pressed against hers is warm and the fabric of his dress pants are soft against her bare legs, and for the first time, she feels like maybe him finding her hiding spot isn’t the worst thing the world.

He passes the bottle back to her, and she goes take a sip, but nothing comes out. “Why’s all the rum gone?”

“Pirate,” he whispers, and she can’t help the smile from cracking her face. 

“You do have the face for it.”

“You’re the pirate in this situation.”

“I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure you stole the rum in the first place, and you took the last sip. So I think you’re the pirate.”

He rolls his eyes, and something warm cracks in her chest. This might be the longest they’ve ever gone being civil with each other, and it feels almost nice.

“What are you thinking about, Capulet?”

“I’m thinking that you weren’t the worst partner in the entire world.” She says, and it most definitely is the rum talking, but, if she pushes past all the terrible arguments and screaming matches in the middle of the precinct, she can remember the late nights over terrible Chinese food, and bouncing ideas off each other productively over stale coffee, and the smile on his face when they closed their biggest case, the wink he gave her over the cheap champagne that Isabella brought out in order to celebrate.

If she lets herself think about it for too long, she realizes maybe she doesn’t dislike Benvolio Montague as much as she thought.

“Was that a compliment?”

“I didn’t say you were a good partner, Montague, don’t let it get to your head.”

Benvolio laughs, and grabs the empty bottle from her. “I don’t know how you do it, Capulet,” he says, pushing himself off the ground.

“Where are you going? And do what?”

“They are going to start the awards soon, and I think us wandering out from our hiding spot might be a bit suspicious.” He holds up a hand and pulls her up, and she tries her best not to stumble into him, but they did just finish half a bottle of rum.

“I guess you’re correct.” She says, and they are standing close enough that she can see the way his eyes drop to her lips for a split second before he steps away from her.

He nods, and goes to turn, but she grabs his sleeve. “Wait, you didn’t answer my second question.”

Benvolio spins back to her, and smiles, bright and happy. “I don’t know how you can be so completely and utterly infuriating, but still manage to make me fall in love with you.” 

Rosaline stumbles, catching herself on the back of the closest chair as Benvolio disappears around the corner.

She must have misheard him. Had to have misheard him. There’s no way Benvolio Montague just said what she thinks he just said.

Benvolio’s head pops around the corner. “You coming?”

“Just a second.”

He nods and then he’s gone again, and Rosaline presses her head in to the wall and takes a deep breath.

It will fine, she tells herself. She’s had enough to drink that hopefully, she would forget this by the time she wakes up tomorrow. Or be able to chalk it up to an over active imagination and a ridiculous amount of hours spent watching Hallmark Christmas movies.

All she has to do is get through the rest of the night, and then she can sleep this off and it will be like it never happened. 

xXx

She remembers everything. She remembers Benvolio finding her hiding spot and actually being tolerable, and his smile. God, she remembers his smile.

And she remember his confession, and the awkwardness of standing next to him and Escalus on the stage, and Escalus attempting to wish her Merry Christmas as she grabbed her jacket, and she remembers Benvolio looking at her like he wanted to say something before she got in her Uber, and she remembers, she remembers, she remembers. 

The precinct in usually quiet, even if it is Christmas Eve. Isabella had taken the day off and some of the other detective were working from home, or had taken a half day.

But Benvolio Montague is still here. Just a few turns and a couple of desks away from her.

She remembers. And Rosaline does not know how to act around him. They’ve never really talked to each other, not since they got new partners, but it’s Christmas, and they are one of the few people around, and the amount of times she’s almost run into him in the break room is frankly ridiculous. 

She’s ridiculous. She was completely fine just tensely ignoring him or glaring at him when he said something particularly annoying in meetings, but now, she can’t even look him in the eye without hearing him saying her may be falling in love with her. Which is dumb, because they were both drunk, and he most definitely did not mean it, but she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since the Christmas party, and it’s starting to drive her insane.

She’s glaring at her computer screen when something hits her smack in the face.

The shirt falls into her hands, and Benvolio is standing in front of her, lips pressed tight together.

“You know, you can just say, hey I want to talk, instead of throwing off-white things at my face.”

Benvolio collapses into the chair across from her desk. “Finding truce flags is much harder than you would expect it to be.”

Rosaline starts folding the shirt so she doesn’t have to look at him. Which shows just how crazy she has gone over this. “I didn’t know our last truce was broken.” 

He wipes his hand down his face, before crossing his arms on her desk, staring at the perfectly folded shirt between them.

“I don’t remember what I said,” he says, almost too quiet for her to hear him.

“What?” There’s a sense of relief in the moment, but it almost makes it worse. Because she’s the only who remembers it, and that means he’s probably not freaking out about it. Which means she is probably is coming off as extra terrible, which is the last thing she wants. Because, she realized, maybe if they stopped fighting with each other about nothing, they could actually be friends. 

She doesn’t hate that thought as much a she once did. In fact, it almost feels like it could be nice.

“I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out what I said to make you hate me again, and I cannot figure it out, so please tell me so I can apologize. If I don’t know what I said, then the apology won’t mean anything.”

Rosaline blinks. Runs her hand over the shirt to smooth out the non existent wrinkles. “You’ve never apologized before.”

She’s not watching his face, but she can see his hands clench into a fist, and can hear him blow a long breath through his nose. “I’ve never said anything terrible enough that you won’t even look at me.” 

Her eyes flicker from his hands to his face, and the muscle in his jaw jumps, and his eyes are open, and clear, and they’ve fought, dozens of times, but she’s not sure she’s ever actually seen him upset. 

“What about that time you called me a harpy?”

He flinches, just slightly, and she wants to run away. Or glue her mouth shut.

“I got you a muffin the next morning. You might have realized, I’m not good at this apology thing.”

“That was you?” Rosaline asks. “I thought that was Bella.”

Benvolio laughs, and drops his head to the table. “See, I’m bad at this. But I’m trying to be better. So please, tell me what I said.”

“You didn’t say anything terrible.”

“Capulet, you literally sprinted from the break room when I came in for coffee an hour ago.”

Rosaline sighs, and closes her eyes, before reaching out and placing her hand over his. “You were as close to a perfect gentleman as you could have been, seeing as you crashed my hiding spot and finished the rum.”

His eyes land on hers, and her heart stutters in a stupid rhythm, and it’s so stupid. This whole thing is stupid. She’s seen him as nothing but a thorn in her side since they were paired together, and all it took was a single night, some alcohol, and a stupid off-white napkin for her to realize he’s not so terrible. And that maybe, she’s been focusing on all of the bad things about him because if she didn’t, she’d have to admit that a Montague of all people wasn’t so bad. 

Juliet had been telling her that for months now, ever since she stumbled into Romeo Montague at a party and they had very recklessly fallen in love. She doesn’t want to have to admit it herself though, let alone anyone else.

“Look, I’m dealing with a lot. Isabella has the next few days off, and this one case is literally eating all of my brain capacity, and it’s Christmas. The last thing I want to be doing is looking over how someone was strangled with a Christmas decoration.” She says, because if he doesn’t remember, then she can get over this. They were drunk, and he probably didn’t mean it, so she can suck it up and get over it.

“Why didn’t you take off?” He asks, and Rosaline pulls her hand away from his. He’s dropping it. Maybe they can try this whole being civil to each other thing.

“Bella let me have Thanksgiving, so I gave her Christmas. Why didn’t you? I thought I saw Stella here earlier.”

Benvolio slumps back into the chair, shoulder’s relaxing into the Benvolio she knows.

“Anything I can do to avoid Christmas eve dinner with my Uncle, I will.”

“Gotcha,” she says, and instantly wants to smash her head into her desk. She smooths her hands over the shirt again, and she picks it up so she can pass it to him. “Let’s say this truce lasts, so you don’t have to throw something at my head next time you want to talk.”

He takes it, his fingers brushing over hers gently. And her heart does that stupid stuttering thing again. “You sure I don’t have anything to apologize for?” 

“I would tell you if you did.” 

“Okay, good. Let me know if you want a new set of eyes on that case.” He pushes himself up from the seat, and she smiles at him. They can do this. Have a truce and be civil, and smile at each other like normal people who work together.

Benvolio smile back, bright and happy, and all too similar to how he did at the Christmas party, and she opens her mouth before she can stop herself. 

“Wait, what are you doing tonight?”

He turns back to her, and shrugs. “I’m going to get some Chinese food and watch the Grinch with my dog, why?” He asks.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she says like that should be enough of an explanation for her question. 

“Yes, I know.”

Rosaline sighs, and scribbles her address down on a sticky note. “Look, I’m pretty sure Romeo is coming over, so you should just come with him. Livia and Juliet and I go out for hibachi, and then watch the claymation Christmas movies, and no one should be alone on Christmas.”

She places the sticky note on top of the shirt, and watches his face goes through too many emotions for her to process. “I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s not imposing if you’re invited.” 

He stares down at the sticky note, and then his eyes find hers and he smiles. “Okay.”

It shouldn’t make her cheeks heat up, but it does. But it’s Christmas, so she’s going to blame it on that. 

xXx

The door swings open, and the next thing she knows Romeo is scooping her into a hug and spinning her around the room.

“Merry Christmas!”

He gently places her back on the ground, and kisses her cheek before Juliet launches herself at him, and Rosaline has to jump out of the way lest she be tackled.

Her eyes fall on Benvolio, and he’s staring at their cousins like he’d rather be anywhere else. He’s wearing jeans, and a festive sweater, and it’s the most causal she’s ever seen him, and she finds it almost unfair how good he looks. He tears his eyes away from their cousins, and thrusts a box into her hands. “I brought cookies.”

“Thank you,” she says, wrapping her hands around the box. But he doesn’t let go.

“I remember, what I said,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable in any way, and I need to learn to keep my stupid mouth shut and-“

“Ben,” she tugs the cookies away from him, and smiles. “I said you had nothing to apologize for.”

He pushes the beanie off his head and runs his hands through his hair, and she can see the tension in his shoulders. “You thought I hated you.”

Her heart is pounding so fast she’s not sure how she’s still standing there. He remembers. He remembers what he says, and he _regrets_ it. It makes her stressed and confused and upset all at once, but she’s still smiling, hands wrapped tightly around the box of cookies.

“I can be a little dramatic.”

Benvolio shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry, really.”

“You’re sorry that I know you don’t hate me?”

“No, shit.” He shakes his head again, and he’s not looking at her, and she’s not sure exactly what emotion she feels currently, but it feels like too many at once. “I’m sorry that I’m so terrible at expressing how I feel that I made you think I hated you. And that my drunken brain decided the best way to be like, hey, I don’t hate you, was to be like, yeah, I might be in love with you, and fuck.” He stops and blinks several times, and Rosaline herself cannot think of anything to say.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, again, I’m going leave. I’m sorry.” 

And then he walks out the door, and she’s just staring at the spot where he was a moment ago, a box of cookies in her hands, and Benvolio Montague was not drunk and just told her he was in love with her. Again.

The cookies drop to the floor. 

He’s halfway down the hallway and she breaks into a run because she forgot her coat and does not want him to get outside before she can stop him.

“Montague, wait!” 

He stops and turns just as she collides into him, and they stumble, both of them almost falling to the floor as he wraps his arms around her to steady them.

“You didn’t give me a moment to respond.” She’s out of breath from running so fast, and he’s looking at her like she might be a little crazy.

“The only response to that is that I’m a fucking idiot who can’t keep his mouth shut.” 

Rosaline shakes her. “No, you dumbass, it’s stop talking for a moment to let a girl process.” 

“Capulet, I-“

Rosaline rolls her eyes and surges forward to press her lips against his. It’s not the most logical response. It’s not even the most practical response, but the raging storm of emotions in her head stop the second she does.

And all that’s left is happiness.

It’s Christmas, and she may have been watching Hallmark movies since she came home, and Benvolio slowly comes to life under her lips, his hands tightening around her waist as he pulls her closer.

“I think I’m confused,” he says when she pulls back. She’s out of breath for a different reason now.

“Why don’t you come back inside. And come out to eat with us, and watch old Christmas movies and then maybe we can talk about this, without you running away.” She bumps her nose against his, and he lets out a shaky breath. 

“Talk about what?” 

“Truces and feelings and the fact that might have been the best kiss I’ve ever had. And that I don’t want to go back to us pretending to hate each other because we don’t know how to move past family grudges and our inability to talk about how we feel.”

Benvolio’s eye scan her face, and then he nods. “Okay. I think I can do that.”

“Okay.” She nods, and kisses him again, because it’s Christmas, because she wants to, because in this moment, it feels right.

And then he smiles at her, bright, and happy, and full, and the Christmas lights from outside dance along his cheeks, and she’s not sure exactly how this is going to go, or what is going to come out of it, but she wants to find out.

And if she’s learned anything from Hallmark Christmas movies, it could be something great.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Happy Holidays!! Thank you for reading! I seem to have forgotten how to write what goes on between dialouge, so if anything seems a bit awkward, sorry! I hope you all have a wonderful holiday, full of happiness and Hallmark like romances. 
> 
> Shout out to Mariah Carey for the title.
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr [here!](https://fallinfor-youreyes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
